


Head

by orphan_account



Category: Diablo (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, i need an au tag for this gay shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:17:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8453200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: demons snip off mal's robes from the waist down and imperius only has eyes for that package





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i am a beacon of sin :,)

_ It’s just a minor meeting,  _ he tells himself, over and over.  _ You don't have to be perfectly dressed. _ He fiddled with his belt self-consciously, head bowed in a faint sense of shame as he walks to the meeting hall. He’d been very tired, which was a risk in of itself, but then ravenous demons had chased him down, toying with his innate curiosity and luring him into a terribly obvious trap. Itherael had been too busy to try and read Talus’ar and prevent it, but had hurried close and freed him anyway.

Now he was heading to a meeting, typical robes ruined; he was left with only his light armor and the bandages constantly coiled around the whole of his figure. Thankfully his hood and wing-casings were intact; he wouldn't know what to do without those. An angel pushed the doors open for him, briefly pulling him from his thoughts and allowing him into the large atrium. Imperius is the first to see him, and nods, acting as if nothing has changed.

“Hello, Malthael. Are you well?”

“Well enough,” he rasps, taking his seat and resting his hands in his lap.

“Good to hear. Everyone is present, so let’s begin.”

The meeting is boring, as usual; he only pays half-attention, speaking up when he feels the need to. Of course, in the middle of something Tyrael stands suddenly, wing-tendrils whipping at the air in irritation as he demands something to be compensated on for fairness. Imperius says nothing, tipping his helmet toward Wisdom, who is too busy mulling over the physics of starmatter.

“Malthael? Are you okay?” Auriel asks, and he jolts from his reverie.

“What? Oh, yes, I'm fine. One of your students helped with the minor injuries I had.”

“Good. But we’d like to know your opinion.”

“Opinion?” He wheezes, looking from her to Tyrael, then to Imperius. “...On what?” Justice sighs heavily, rolling his shoulders in vague annoyance.

“Were you even paying attention?”

“Don't talk to him like that,” Valor hisses, standing as well.

_ Bless his overprotective heart, _ Wisdom muses.

“This is a vital meeting!” Justice booms, pulling himself up to his full height--he’s still shorter than Imperius.

“It isn't too big a deal,” the larger scoffs, waving a hand in dismissal.

“It  _ is! _ ” Tyrael throws his hands up angrily, and Auriel sighs, shaking her head from her place nearby.

“If this is really so important, Malthael would have a reason to listen. You’re wasting his time, as well as all of ours,” Valor retorts. Itherael rolls their neck and sets the Scroll of Fate into the air, waving it open and watching some happening elsewhere.

“This is a matter of sieging the Lord of Sin, you buffoon!”

“ _ Buffoon?! _ ” Imperius howls, reeling back angrily. Tyrael, for what it’s worth, doesn't flinch. Malthael scoffs to himself, setting his head in one hand irritably. This happens  _ every time. _

“Yes,  _ buffoon! _ All you do is demand-demand-demand and then when someone turns it around, you wave them off!” Just hearing that was the last straw; Wisdom stands sharply, wings flaring to their full extent.

“ _ SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP BEFORE I THROW YOU BOTH INTO SANCTUARY! _ ” Both do so automatically, Itherael and Auriel both looking up and sitting straighter. He turns first to Justice, taking a long breath. “I apologize for not paying attention, but we all know demons are undeserving of your fairness.” He then turns to Imperius, who stiffens under his gaze. “As for you,  _ I _ am the head of the Angiris Council. You know this. Stop and think about more points of view than your own before you put words in my mouth, or demand things of others that I would not!” Valor flinches at the snap in his words, and he straightens, shaking his head tiredly as his wings drop back flush to his shoulders, slumping into his seat again. “By Anu, I feel like I'm dealing with mortal children…”

“Should we take a moment to rest? This is a mess of a meeting and you just got back from a grueling battle. I doubt you wish to deal with any of this.” Auriel looks to him, and he feels quietly grateful for her saint’s patience.

“Yes,  _ please. _ I need a break.”

“Of course,” she says, nodding sympathetically. Itherael shrugs and vanishes without a word, Hope fluttering out shortly after. Tyrael says nothing but seems annoyed as he flies off toward his Courts. That leaves just Malthael and Imperius. Valor leans forward, shuffling himself about and ensuring the elder didn’t see the way his body reacted to being shouted at in such a manner.

“I apologize for pushing the matters, earlier.”

“It's fine. Although, I would like to stay here a moment and discuss things.” He almost shivers at the thrill--just the two of them, here,  _ undisturbed. _ His pretty-bird flirting hasn't gone unrequited, either. This may be his best opportunity to get his terrible wish granted. 

“Ah, of course. I wouldn't mind talking with you in private.” Perfect.

“Good.” Malthael sits beside him, and they turn to face each other. He’s still dizzy from the way the smaller archangel’s voice seems to echo up from the depths of that hood, a deep, bassy rumble following along with his words. How could such a small, slender being have such a powerful voice? Then again, it doesn't help Imperius’d gotten caught up in the thrill of a good debate--even if it was petty and childish. They stare for a long moment, and Wisdom seems to be picking him apart mutely, dissecting him without laying a finger on him. He thinks back to that bit of advice that Auriel had given him regarding the eldest: “when in doubt, be blunt with him. He seems to like that.”

“Ah, Malthael,” he begins, enjoying the way that pretty name rolls off his tongue. A vague noise is the reply, and the hood lifts almost invisibly. “Would you care to… go elsewhere? I have some questions to ask you, but it may not be wise to ask them here.”  _ Good, he’ll like you being smart about things. _

Wisdom watches him a moment more before standing fluidly.

“Of course. Where would you like to go?” He stands as well and offers a hand, smiling with his wings when slender, covered fingers lace with his own.

“Either of our domains would work--yours may be better for what I'm thinking of, though.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angel poooooorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is anyone surprised that the second chapter of one of my diablo fics is smut, at this point?

When presented with a command from the Head of the Angiris Council, one generally follows it, mortal or angel. It may get the person in a sticky situation, but it's nonetheless one the leader can easily handle. 

Currently, Imperius is obeying every little command, verbal or otherwise, that he registers. The scent hits him again and he sucks in a shaky breath, nuzzling up into the warmth of his leader. The hand petting his head goes rigid, fingertips digging against him. There's a sound like music to his ears, so impossibly low and rough and yet so delightfully high and smooth all at once. It's driving his sanity to the breaking point, and as punishment for the noise, he slips a hand up under one slender thigh, cupping it to his head and allowing him to kiss along the soft, slightly glowing flesh. He smirks against the silky skin at another musical groan, letting the kisses get sloppy and wet.

“Are you going to bite me?” The voice above him demands, fingers scraping over his head again.

“If you wish me to, I will.” A subtle gasp when he speaks against the lean-muscled appendage, thumb massaging along the back of it gently. He smirks when the pretty torso flexes, clearly wanting to buck up and silence him.

“You ought to. No one will see the marks.” The sharp hood tips away, clearly trying to avoid the sight before it. He rumbles a vague sound of approval before slowly closing his mouth over a patch of skin, sucking and leaving a terribly deep hickey that stained purple-black against the ashy white. Another moan that sounds like it poured right out of the deepest part of that small chest fills his ears and he growls, baring his teeth against the bruise as if marking his territory. The hands on his head shift, wrapping around him and dragging him closer, forcing what constitutes his face into the junction between those slender legs.

“Yes?” He says, grinning smugly despite the agitated way those skinny fingers dig at him, insisting that he stop teasing.

“Enough,” comes the strained rasp, hands grabbing and searching for a way to get his mouth to do what they want.

“You can command me, Malthael,” he purrs, tipping his chin up to meet the gaze of the being hunched over him. “In fact-”

“You enjoy it. I know.” There's a note of vague disgust, but it's the kind he likes, and he all but melts at the hidden sneer. “Who knew such a powerful, noble archangel would have such demeaning fantasies of himself?”

“You did,” he pointed out, earning a cuff to the side of his head, which simply knocked him against Wisdom’s skinny thigh again. He squirmed, crawling a bit closer and jarring the clamps that kept his wings pinned. It was new and he  _ adored  _ it. “Come on, just a little more. I love seeing you like this and I just want it to last.”

“If you insist,” came the exasperated reply. “But I must have my fun as well, Valor. You know that.” A dry chuckle emanates from his small lover, who leans back and lifts his legs, hooking bony knees over his almost comically large shoulders, pinning his head between those delightful little thighs. He licks his lips in satisfaction, completely enjoying this new position. There’s a light squeeze, and he gives a dangerous sound, promptly earning himself another, tighter squeeze. The long, lanky legs pull him in again, angled heels brushing cool and light along the join of his wings and back. He knows Malthael has a supremely smug look written over that face, and decides to get back at the elder.

“Hood off, please.” That catches Wisdom by surprise, but he obeys and drops the sharp cowl and watches him, eyes narrowed visibly.

“Happy?” The smaller rasps, glaring at the self-satisfied look all over Imperius’s decidedly lovely face.

“Yes,” comes the reply, just before he’s taken into that awful mouth. He almost wants to scream and his face wrenches up, teeth bared in a mute snarl as he grabs that stupid head and drags himself deeper. “ _ By the Heavens, _ ” he manages to wheeze out in-between clenched jaws, eyes rolling back at the raw sensation.

“Ith goob?” Comes the muffled question, and he whimpers, nodding quickly.

“Yes, it's good.” That's a lie--this is beyond  _ good,  _ beyond  _ perfect,  _ beyond any and all descriptors his pleasure-addled brain can dig up. Only Imperius can do this to him; maybe it's the shape of his mouth, or the way his tongue is; maybe it has something to do with his teeth or the way he sucks. Malthael finds himself losing interest in such thoughts, becoming too occupied with the visceral heat in his belly and needy cock. That mouth pulls back with a wet noise, stopping to lavish the mushroom-cap head in attention. He digs his fingers in again, giving a sound just this side of feral. Imperius is so obedient, opening his mouth and smoothing his lips down and around, slicking along the underside with his tongue. Wisdom’s wings drop down, tangling the digits up with those of his lover, the ethereal fire warming the smoky lavender appendages.

“Imperius,” he manages, dropping his head in shame when Valor pulls away, licking and smacking his lips with the utmost satisfaction.

“Yes?”

“I love this,” he whispers, moving his gangly legs and standing slowly. The larger begins to sloppily worship his body, mouth smearing over his flat belly, massive hands curling around his thighs.

“I love  _ you, _ ” the younger growled, Wisdom jumping at the sensation of teeth leaving another territorial mark on a sharply jutting hipbone.


End file.
